The Elves of the Dauriath

The Kiss of the Worlds

Introduction

This story is the first of a series I improvised or composed as a bard
in the Elven world of Second life: «Elf Circle».

The theme is a world of Elves and Humans. As of all my stories,
the purpose is to express a vision of a better world, with the
description of the thoughs and feelings of the characters.

It is recommended to read this story in first, in order not to spoil it.
The other stories are each independants, although they happen in the same
world. You can read them in any order, or in the historical order.
This order is indicated in the vertical bar at left.

The Kiss of the Worlds

By Yichard Muni, elf bard

Söjen was looking at the sunset.
One of the reasons why he disliked this bleak land was the night
falling at three in the afternoon, well before the normal end of the
day. But they had no other choice than to walk still further, since
the war with the Humans forced the Elves to flee along this deserted
plateau. The climate was already cold here, from the short day, but
it was still worsening, with the vertiginous drop of the general
level of the oceans, which transformed this lush plain into a bleak
moor.

At first, the sun was looking as if
something was biting in. It was still high into the sky, but its
light decreased second after second, turning pale and cold as in
winter. Soon only a half of it appeared, and then a thin segment,
turning red. For some seconds the landscape was illuminated in a dull
red light, which suddenly went off like a dying candle. And in the
now black sky, only remained a short red bow with irregular orange
dots, under a kind of purple aura. It was better not to be found
outdoors without a lamp!

Soon these remnant lights also faded
out, while the eyes were getting accustomed to the night. Stars
appeared, except under the former place of the red bow. Here there
was a vast round expand of dark sky without stars, stretching from
the horizon up to near the zenith, an absolutely black brooding
silhouette standing sharply in contrast over a diffuse white gleam in
the starry sky.

This was, as Söjen knew, the
Dauriath, the Other World in the sky, which was now allotted to the
Elves, as decided by the World Nations Council some years ago, to put
an end to the millennia old wars and segregations against them. But
now the Dauriath appeared only as a dark rounded form looming above
them into the sky. Some pretended they saw lights in there, but Human
scholars said this was impossible, the Dauriath was too far for this.

Söjen turned back to the camp,
toward his Elven tribe, toward his new wife Eleanor. In this obscure
afternoon, they would have to wait for hours before the real night.
Anyway they could not walk any longer this day, and had to set fires
for kitchening.

They were a large tribe of 300 and
more, from a large house in the ancient Elven country of Terallion.
But they had to leave, forced out by the human soldiers. Oh, they
were not violented, but leaving their wonderful painted carved wooden
house and centuries of memories was as strong a pain. The country of
Terallion was a wide forested plateau, cut by deep gorges and strewn
with rocky hills forming strange natural castles. Elves were seeing
here a marvellous land with magical hidden glens resounding with
melodies of birds, when human administrators were only seeing a
strategic plateau with mines and timber. So the Elves had to left,
not daring to look behind to the billowing smoke of their arsoned
house.

The evening went smooth, with songs and
music, as usual. Among the few belongings they could carry on their
backs, the Elves found that the most important were some music
instruments, the most ancient, those bearing names. Söjen
himself was carrying a small clock dear to his memories, although it
was useless now, as the pendulum clocks were becoming slower and
slower while approaching the Dauriath.

But the most important, Söjen
thought, was themselves. They would be free in their new world. So
their long and exhausting journey along the Trail of Tears was,
certainly a deportation, but it was above all a path to freedom. And
to safety. In Dauriath they would no longer have to bear war and
hate, they would enjoy a peaceful land, without any need to take
turns for guard or to beware from strangers. To expect only merry
news and nice surprises from the unknown guest is a treasure worth
all the carved houses. To feel only confidence with the passing
stranger is an eternal source of wonder and happiness they could not
renounce, would the Trail be ten times longer.

Their camp was set besides an ancient
deserted human village. Söjen sat on a stone bench, and at once
he felt the hands of his wife Eleanor on his shoulders. She sat
besides him, merging her hairs with his own hairs, sending her warm
breath on his neck. He passed his arm around her back, and pulled
their only cover to protect them from the bitter wind. For long
minutes, they just stayed like that, simply enjoying the presence and
warmth of each other.

The cooks began to distribute the food
of the day, kind of military rations left on the path by the Trail
Guards. Those Humans were in charge of the welfare of the retreating
Elves (and of watching at them too). But the Elves seldom met them,
on the wide stretches of this ancient wealthy cultivated plain, now a
deserted moor strewn with decayed fence posts and broken walls. So,
depending on the place, the Elves got outdated army food, or bags
send by charity trusts, and often nothing. Charity food was sometime
very good, or really inappropriate, such as those large bags of white
sugar, wet from the rain, they had for only meal the last day. Army
supplies, at least, offered a whole meal, even if very far from the
tastes of a meal.

They would not suffer from hunger this
night, but they were all tired with this long walk. Tired and sad of
all what they lost.

But Söjen also realized that they
still had the most important. Objects only were lost, not lore or
wisdom. Objects could be rebuilt, not lost memories. Most of their
songs and ancient tales, they knew then by heart, or could recover
them from other tribes. Skills and talents were still in their hands,
too, to learn other artists and artisans. They would soon have again
marvellous rounded houses and exquisite music instruments. They would
also have beautiful gardens, whatever strange trees and flowers they
would find in the Dauriath.

The most important was their spirit and
values. Elves always were respectful of others and of every life,
including humans. They did war only for defence, and many disappeared
simply from refusing to fight back the Human invaders. Only their
spirit and values allowed them to be happy together, and to spend
their long lives without disputes or disagreements. Of course, each
of them had different ways, but this never was a problem so long as
they were respecting other’s ways.

Eleanor put her cheek on Söjen's
cheek, and he thought that love was the most beautiful and important
of everything. So long as they would be breathing and conscious, they
would be loving each other, whatever it would be the scorching love
of the spouse, the warm cheer of the friend, or the comforting social
recognition of the Tribe. As long as they would be loving each other,
there would be a purpose for their lives, and it would be worth
working for maintaining this life. Even their nowadays plight, this
exhausting walk and insane hope to reach this mysterious Dauriath
looming in the sky above them, all this was worth doing it, provided
they did not forget to bring love with them.

From the Terallion, the Dauriath was
not visible, so that they had real sunrise and sunset. But as they
were approaching it, its huge dome was growing higher and higher into
the sky, cutting more and more of the day.

Eleanor was now singing for Söjen
alone, a whisper of love, into his hear. It was so moving, so
beautiful, it recalled them the beauties of their lost country. But
wherever they would go now, so long as they could be able to enjoy
the beauty of places, they would be happy, and their lives worth
living. Surely there would be beautiful places in the Dauriath, the
Other World, that they could enjoy. Even if there were not, they
could arrange some, plant trees, build new houses, and paint them as
they used to do. And be happy in.

Two days ago, they caught up a small
group of old Elves, the only remnants of another tribe. Those had a
much harder fate to bear, their whole tribe was slaughtered, leaving
only the oldies unable to bear children. They were slowly doing their
way toward a thin hope for a better life, but their hearts were heavy
with sorrow. So Söjen's tribe adopted them. They would walk more
slowly now, but neglecting hospitality would be a much higher cost.
If they had left these oldies, they would reach a nice place faster,
but the oldies would certainly die without ever reaching it, and
remorse would forever dim their own dreams.

The meal finished, they just had to
sleep, snuggling against each other, with the only thin covers they
had. Fortunately those covers would protect them from rain, but it
was not raining, and it was better not to seek shelter into the
ruined houses close by. So Söjen was lying in the grass, Eleanor
into his arms. The Tribe had set, from long ago, a system of turns,
with some of them sleeping one night on the side of their group, and
the next night into the warmer middle. But this had to be bettered,
as some were more sensitive to cold. Of course their few children
were always in the middle, and Eleanor too, as she was bearing the
promise of life in her belly. Then Söjen was more often on the
side.

It was difficult to sleep all this long
night, and Söjen was awake several times, aware of the dark
looming silhouette of the Dauriath standing against the starry sky.
At three in the morning, the very top of the Dauriath used to turn
reddish. Soon it went white and shiny, and sleep was becoming uneasy.
Eleanor hide her face with a corner of their cover. Every morning the
same incredible view was offered to them. The thin white crescent on
the top of the Dauriath was enlarging toward the bottom, and little
by little the black silhouette was changing into a glory of light, as
far as turning the sky to indigo, hiding the stars and awaking the
birds.

At five, the whole tribe was awake, and
most of the Dauriath was illuminated, a large tapestry of blue
embroidered with white, on patches of green and ochre. The white
patterns were always moving slowly, but the coloured patterns used to
remain always in the same place. There were mostly circular patches,
and Söjen was wondering what they were. Lands, forests,
mountains, oceans, it was said. One of these green circles had
started to turn blue during the previous month, the blue catching day
after day over the green.

This strange immobile dawn was clear
enough to allow for a safe walk, which was anyway better than lying
miserably on the ground, unable to sleep and shivering with cold. For
this reason they used to set up early and have some rest at noon.

When the real day arose, the sun seemed
to add only little light to the display of the Dauriath, the Other
World. Simply the sky went blue, and only the white tapestries of the
Dauriath remained visible, the darker hues drowning into the blue of
the sky.

As the day was passing, the bottom of
the Dauriath was becoming invisible into the blue of the sky. This
blue oblivion was climbing slowly, the white patterns were fading one
per one into the blue sky, until only a thin white bow remained, with
the sun nearing it. At last only the sun was visible, until it
reaches the Dauriath and disappeared behind, as they saw yesterday.

About two other days later, the Trail
crossed a road, with a small town at the crossing point. Most of its
former inhabitants were gone, fleeing the climate change and the now
inhospitable plateau where cultivations became unproductive. It was
now a busy, ugly and muddy area, with plenty of makeshift builds and
barracks, occupied by all kind of Human folks, Trail Guards,
charities working to help the Elves, or on the contrary adventurers
and crooks trying to take profit of them. They knew (or believed)
that many Elves were carrying gold, jewels or precious stones, and
tried to bargain them against ridiculous amounts of food or medicine.
The Trail Guards had much to do to keep all this working, offering
meals, pitching tents, and catching thieves. Söjen noticed that
they were bearing fire arms, long rifles of a modern type using a
flintstone and a leg for aiming. These were the wicked weapons which
doomed the Elves, making nearby useless their skillful bowmen and
seasoned stealth forest fighters. At two occasions they heard the
ugly cracking sound of them, but without knowing what happened or who
was shot.

Their tribe was assigned a large tent,
but tribes were not allowed to merge or communicate. Anyway they were
not permitted to stay more than three days, unless the physicians
authorized them for more. Large chariots were coming to bring food,
and leaving empty, not allowed to carry the tired Elves.

So they had some rest and warmth, but
the stay here was overall unpleasant. They had to keep on guard all
the time, avoiding being alone, and especially not to get out of the
guarded areas, by fear of robbers and attacks. Even into the area,
they were always solicited by crooks claiming to help them, but in
fact trying to ensnare them into schemes for money, false
authorisations or womanizing. There even were frightening stories of
disappearing children. For the confident, straight and honest Elves,
those lies were often difficult to understand, and they could really
defend themselves only with a systematic defiance toward all those
beautiful speakers. But pitifully this also prevented them from
communicating with the some true hearted Humans who were coming here
to help them, to meet them and understand them. So they just accepted
the food and politely thanked for it.

This mandatory defiance was clearly
pointing at their most precious treasure. It was not the gold
encircling their ankles, wrists or necks, not the shiny stones on
their brooches or talismans, but their honesty into their hearts. The
trouble ambiance of this camp was sharply contrasting with the
peaceful confidence which was an absolute standard in their tribe,
and abroad in the whole former Terallion. They were sure, anywhom Elf
or Elve they could encounter, that his or her intent was made clear
at once, and that this intent was kind and helpful, or at least
legitimate. So they could open their heart or their home to anybody
unknown, without any fear or suspicion. They never heard of any theft
or abuse in their kin, and they could left their gold, and even their
hearts, in the view of everybody, without any problem never
happening, even not a feeling of trouble or something being wrong.
How to live otherwise? Wagons of gold would not compensate for the
sad boredom of living alone in defiance of others, centuries of life
would be of no use if they had nobody to open their hearts and share
this life. Söjen hoped that it would be the same in their future
stay in the Dauriath, whatever living conditions they would encounter
there.

They left the muddy town in the morning
soon, before the hustle. They were allowed to stay until the
afternoon, but they unanimously preferred to walk a bit, and rest in
the open, than breathing this unhealthy suspicion. But they were
anyway spotted by a charity group, and soon followed by a bunch of
smiling and laughing women and teens, offering them each a bag with
food, some medicines and a cover, which were all really welcome. At
first the Elves were cautious as advised by the Guards, just thanking
politely without slowing their walk. But they all had a feeling that
these women were sincere, and, as soon as they all were out of sight
of the Guards, there was a long lasting hugging session! Seeing this,
Söjen was first troubled, but he realized why: the nasty
ambiance of the shanty town had instilled a tiny amount of defiance
and mistrust into his heart! Such a feeling, if he accepted it, could
quickly make him unable to enjoy being confident with others, unable
of being happy with them! How gold could repair such a disability?

When they finally departed, Söjen
noticed one of the adult woman crying, and the others comforting
them. Crying and smiling in the same time, while waving goodbyes with
her hand... Her young Human daughter was joining their Elven tribe!
These mother and child would never meet again, but the daughter was
following her way...

And, after all, what was the matter of
being an Elf or a Human? Some Humans were too able to be kind,
helpful and honest like the Elves! So where was the difference
between Humans and Elves? «The Blood» were saying all
together those warriors and managers who hated the Elves and were
building grey towns and square houses where people were living for
themselves alone, in defiance of each other. What could be this
«Blood», when Humans and Elves were able to have children
together, who were later turning Human or Elve, depending mostly on
their basic education? Söjen, and many others, was wondering if
that «Blood» was not just a pure invention to separate
them and offer a grip for the hate.

Two days after, the Trail was following
a peaceful river, among what were once lush fields and meadows, now a
dark moor lined with grownup hedges. Ruined cottages could still be
seen, and former orchards sometimes still offered some fruits to
glean.

But suddenly the peaceful river
engulfed into a deep gully, looking unnatural between its freshly
hewn walls of crumbling earth, which were cutting hedges and even a
house. There was a bridge, of which only a stump of an arch remained,
hanging over a dark chasm it was now unable to span. Water was
ominously roaring into the bottom. With the vertiginous drop of the
ocean level, rivers were now deeply gouging their former beds,
especially if they were running into soft soil like here, instead of
rocks.

Seeing the gaping gulf and hearing the
frightening noise, Söjen shuddered, for the first time feeling
the overwhelming power of the huge natural forces which were now
transforming their world, insensitive to the frail creatures which
were walking on its thin surface.

They found another similar chasm before
the end of the day. The Guards had blocked a former branch of the
Trail which was recently cut by this new chasm, and were redirecting
the Elves toward a safer path, through a group of low hills.

Again one day of march, and they found
the ancient harbour which was once feeding this country. The town was
now cut in two by a wide gully, which mercilessly engulfed the whole
central district, with its main temples and mayor building. Heaps of
stones, tiles and broken beams were slowly sliding along the slope
into the gulf, or sometimes falling with banging noises. The
remaining houses were scarcely inhabited now, and often ruined. Large
docks were now used by the guards and charities. A lighthouse and two
large stone piers were now uselessly hanging above what seemed an
infinite down slope, its bottom lost into a distance haze. They
realized that the ocean was really gone, very low and very far, even
out of sight from here. The former plain was now a mountain! Futile
attempts were made to build wooden jetties at a lower altitude, and
some rotting ship hulls were still visible among trees and meadows,
as only witnesses of the lost sea.

This place was also occupied by
humanitarian workers and Trail Guards, with a better efficiency, as
they were able to ward off robbers and thefts. But the Elves went
aware of a new and unexpected problem: the young human lady who
joined them had to hide from the Guards, for some reason. They had to
exchange clothes and disguise her. This situation arose a concern
among some Elves of their tribe: why to hide, when we are honest?
None of them asked any question to her, from respecting freedom and
privacy, but this was introducing a trouble in their group. She
probably felt the trouble, as she explained herself the matter: her
father was a violent man who mistreated her mother, so that she had
to ask for a divorce. But now the father was threatening to catch the
daughter, to take revenge of the mother. So the daughter decided to
flee to protect her mother. And to flee with the Elves, as she was
fond of Elvish culture.

Understanding that, all the Tribe went
silently working to hide her, without any more comment or hesitation,
and helping her to quickly learn the most visible Elvish ways and
culture. But Söjen could not avoid a profound feeling of disgust
and nausea toward this foul man who cheated with the confidence of
his loving wife. What did he earned from this? Nothing at all, he
just lost this confidence, with no kind of compensation. Elves even
had no word for such a stupid behaviour, but Humans had one:
dishonourable.

At evening, while trying to sleep into
one of the dark human houses, Söjen was feeling the body of his
own wife, confidently abandoned against him, with her breath and
heartbeat (now two heartbeats). This was really the most sacred to
his feeling, and he received as a great honour and mark of trust that
a woman allowed him to touch her body. How could he betray such a
confidence, how could he dare to hurt her, how could he only imagine
he could make anything which would drive her unhappy, which could
only put her not at ease. Loving was like that: giving time, work and
energy to make somebody else happy. A high cost, certainly, to be
paid in lifetime and freedom, for no apparent profit. But without
love, life was simply senseless.

They left the broken harbour soon the
next morning, and began their long descend along the former
continental slope. At first, nothing indicated it once was the bottom
of the sea. Most of it was now covered with a lush forest of young
green trees, and even with fields, at places. But landslides had also
cut huge scars, with muddy slopes, dangerous to climb down. There
were ropes hanging down to ease the descent and make it less
hazardous. They also found freshly cut gullies with muddy salty
springs, some of them gurgling with a kind of black stinking oil.
They even saw one spring hissing and spouting all together water,
oil, noisy red flames and black fuliginous smoke. Fearsome place,
smelling of ashes and soot!

The Trail was skirting around
cultivated areas, to avoid problems with the inhabitants. In some
places, stones and fences were put across adventicious paths, to
forbid access to farms and fields. Some even exhibited anti-Elve
writings, in coarse and square letters. This was really not needed to
keep them on the Trail.

At last the Trail was reaching the
former bottom of the ocean, which was now a flat country covered with
fields and young trees. Many Humans were living here, and new towns
were built with whitewashed houses having large windows and pink tile
roofs. Wide and straight streets were radiating around elegant
temples and large community buildings. There were many small trees
and flowers. Schools and shops were visible, and people were busy,
looking happy. Around, large fields, vegetable gardens and orchards
were bearing lush crops. Everything was looking clean and newly
built, even the trees were all young and lively. This was a sharp and
merry change from the sad deserted plateau and its dark old unhealthy
houses.

Söjen feared that the ocean could
come back one day, and cover all this flourishing life without
warning. But it was impossible, as the ocean was now leaving the
Nyidiath, The Here World, and filling into the Dauriath, the Other
World, through the Horiathon, the Junction. This started seven
centuries ago, when the Dauriath, slowly but inexorably approaching,
went so close of the Nyidiath that it began to suck its ocean. Until
now, the waters lowered nearby seven hundred metres down, and this
would still go on for seven more centuries, until the Nyidiath and
the Dauriath would be close enough to share only one ocean. At least
this is what Söjen was told, from human astronomers, as he was
completely unable to figure how water could flow from the Nyidiath on
the ground, to the Dauriath into the sky. But he would know, as they
had to pass by the Junction... a mysterious and dangerous place, it
was said, and some even told them that no Elf was actually able to
survive this passage, and they were just all sent to death.

Fortunately the new Human land was much
friendlier to the Elves, and some were even wearing clothes in elvish
style. At the great surprise of the whole Tribe, the trail was
stopping at the first village, and chariots were waiting for them,
led by men. A clean clothed Elf went out of a close house, and warmly
welcomed them, explaining what was going on in this country.

When the World Nations Council decided
to send the Elves to the Dauriath, they knew that the project would
entail much work and cost. So, while discussions were going on, they
requested the Elves to support themselves some part of it. Strangely
the Elven High Council never really opposed the exile itself, but
they stood fast on requesting that Elves should manage themselves
their own work and effort for the project. So the Elves were allowed
to have harbours and build ships, in order to sail toward the
Horiathon, the Junction. As it was a one way passage, once beyond the
Horiathon, those ships would be unable to come back from the Dauriath
to take other passengers. So a great number of ships would be needed,
to carry eighteen millions of Elves from the entire Nyidiath world.

And now Söjen’s Tribe was
arriving into one of these Elven harbours. If we could call this a
harbour, as the ocean was retreating hundreds of metres a year along
the plain, and the Elven shipwrights had to use floating docks and
piers.

Amazed, the new arrived tribe was
discovering a huge undertaking in a whole region, where tens of
thousands Elves were waiting their turn to build their ship. For this
they needed huge amounts of food, lodge, tools, and timber, that only
the local Humans could provide them. At first those Human were not
interested into helping the Elves. So they asked for barter: In
return, the Elves should work for the Humans, following a fair
agreement. This was unnatural to the Elvish mind, where a gift is
made full heartedly, without ulterior motive. But they had to accept
or to wait forever.

So the first Elves to occupy the
harbour had laid a powerful organization. The newly arrived Elves
were put at work into schools or hospitals, and they were building
new villages and towns near the retreating ocean front, inhabiting
them first, and giving them back to Humans when they had built their
ship and left. But they were not receiving commands of Human foremen:
right on the contrary they were managing everything themselves. This
way was much more natural to them, organizing their work themselves
and managing their situation, rather than just receiving charity and
grants, or leaving a debt behind them.

Söjen's tribe was received in a
dispatch camp, well tidied and healthy, where they could rest for
three full days, wash and have new clothes. Then they moved toward a
new village being built on the ocean front, with some empty houses
and buildings. They left their jewels and music instruments in one of
the new community house, and were assigned each one a work by Elven
managers. It was an incredible organization, and everyone was finding
at once an activity fitting his skills and strength. Söjen and
Eleanor had to learn the basis of the local human language. Only one
month later, Eleanor became a nurse, and Söjen a school teacher!
Most of the others were doing masons, carpenters, nurses, tailors,
cultivators, and of course shipwrights. Even the ship building was
very efficiently organized: frames and planking were made from
templates into roofed workshops, and carried toward the floating
assembly docks with large carts. By lack of tall trees, masts were
made of smaller parts tightly assembled with iron circling.

This was so far from the traditional
ready made image of the lazy and inefficient Elves, that so many
Humans had in mind! Just being able to waste their incredible skills
for building only music instruments! This industriousness, self
support and organization was allowing the Elves to build their ships
at a much better rate and lesser cost than planned by the World
Council. But also it resulted into something very unexpected: nearby
all the humans around became very happy with the Elves, who were
building their houses, teaching their children, tenderly taking care
of their sick and old people! This is why this region became very Elf
friendly and so cooperative, to the contrary of the mountain people
around who usually hated the Elves. A great confidence was build, so
far as entrusting Elves into police functions where they showed very
efficient.

At first Söjen was feeling very
not at ease with such an organization. It was so straightforwardly
the opposite of their usual life, based on freedom, spontaneity,
individual initiative and independence. Now he had to deal with a
strong hierarchy, obeying commands, answering to calls far away, and
above all being alone for hours in strange places, without his dear
wife and friends. In more the Elves did not liked the square brick
houses those humans were asking them to build. But Söjen and the
Tribe soon understood that they had no choice. Wisdom was to accept
these necessary conditions, in order to fulfil their goal. So he put
himself at work full heartedly, even anticipating the commands and
needs.

In the first days, the Tribe attempted
to gather every evening with their music instruments and everything,
but they soon had to abandon and gather only on rest days. They even
were somewhat scattered, but in exchange they were meeting people of
other tribes. New friendships and new loves appeared in this time,
and many youngsters joined or left their tribe.

On this occasion they could realize the
incredible diversity of their Elvish cultures. From the same basic
themes, each country had developed its own stories and styles, and
all the artists had very happy times comparing their works in long
community evenings. Also, all the elves had developed kindness,
wisdom and love of life. But each applied them in his own way.
Stealth warriors, peaceful bards, magicians, Urban Elves
knowledgeable in science, wandering sailors or wild Forest Elves,
everyone had his say, and they swore to carefully maintain this
diversity in the Dauriath, with rebuilding each of their countries.
But they would not commit again the error of remaining isolated each
in his place…

Once accepted, this life was much more
bearable than expected, and even pleasant. The urge of willingly
accepted commands was, in fact, giving Söjen energy and good
spirit. And he still remembers those seven hustling and exhausting
months with a strange nostalgia. And with a kind of pride, very
different of the subtle shame he was feeling into the refugee camps:
what they did, they did themselves, with their own work, skill and
willingness, owing nothing to nobody. Certainly he had to do things
when he did not had the desire for, but accepting this allowed the
community to achieve a much greater goal than just a collection of
unconnected individual initiatives.

They even did more, as they helped
others.

Even several Human teens were asking to
depart with the Elves, and their parents confidently accepted. A well
respected rule however was that only Humans who were in the process
of becoming Elves could depart.

And many of the local folks were now
regretting that the Elves were expelled from this world. They would
deeply miss their kindness, honesty and beauty.

About this, a word of mouth was
starting to buzz: their banishment was not forever. For several other
centuries, they would be forced to stay in the Dauriath, unable to
come back to the Human world. But, sheltered from war and
persecutions, they would develop and evolve of their own, gaining in
wisdom and knowledge, happiness and strength, and becoming much more
numerous. And one day, the Horiathon would allow sailing in both
ways. And at this time, the Humans themselves would ask them back,
understanding that they had lost the best of themselves while
banishing the kindness and beauty of the Elves.

Time passing by, the top hierarchy was
leaving for the Horiathon. So Söjen’s mates had to become
managers in their turn, and take newly arrived Elves under their
command. Eleanor, who was now heavy and tired, took the head of her
nurse team, and she started at once to train somebody else to replace
her in the commands, once she would be gone.

So, when the Tribe was told that their
ship was ready, seven months later, it was a bit of a surprise, a
joy, and a grief to lose all their new friends.

They just took some hours to pack their
belongings, their precious music instruments (They even managed to
build new ones!), into protective cases in the holds of the ship.
Adding to this was a fair lot of tools, fabrics, seeds, house
implements, and food. The heaviest gear, a stock of iron ingots,
copper ingots and other metals, was skilfully put into the keel, so
that they had no need to add ballast into this one use ship. The
Elves even managed to wrap gold and silver ingots in clay, and drop
them into molten tin. So the controllers of the Council were seeing
tin ingots, of normal density! But it would be easy to recover this
gold, at the arrival.

The ship itself was rather strange, as
the deck was completely covered with a rounded roof, as if it was
intended to sail upside down. It was black with caulking. Rigging and
sails were of good building, but masts and rudder were short and
sturdy, and the keel looked too large. They entered inside through
watertight hatches, and could see outside only through small glass
portholes. Inside, gangways were sneaking between trusses of beams,
which ensured a very sturdy building of the hull. Even cabin walls
were part of the frames, adding to the overall solidity. There was no
kind of painting and decoration anywhere, only raw wood and the bad
smelling black caulking, that kind of oil they saw spouting out of
the springs. It was really an emergency ship, that they would not
regret to axe down into firewood after its only one course. They
could enter at 900 inside, although this would require a strong
discipline to be bearable. So Söjen’s tribe went in with
another large tribe, together with some other scattered Elves and
newly converted Humans.

They cast moorings as soon as they were
ready, despite the evening hour.

There was a bit of a way to the
Horiathon, the Junction, and only the captain actually approached it
to see how it was looking like. But he replied no question about
this, looking a bit scared.

They sailed well, as the ocean around
the Horiathon had continuous strong winds. So they just had to keep
wind astern and wait.

The travel took two weeks, and the
closeness of the space into the ship would make the situation really
unbearable, without the strong Elvish sense of respecting others.
Being continuously hampering each other created an intense stress,
and there were some disputes. But these disputes were managed as soon
as they appeared, and even before, to avoid bringing the individual
disputes into the whole community. Those disputes could generally not
be solved, so most of the time the concerned people were brought to
separated cabins, and that was enough to avoid propagating resentment
to others. Anyway people were spontaneously exchanging places for
many other reasons.

One of the disputes was about Eleanor
giving birth to her baby during the travel. Such an event, usually a
source of joy, was a cause of grief for many: why they did not
started their journey at another moment, so that they not had to bear
the children's cries? There was no reply to this, as other Elves were
pregnant too, and deliveries would have occurred at any further date.
But, in these times of stress and pain, this argument was not enough,
and, to put an end to this, the captain gave up his own cabin to the
mother and baby, sleeping with the other sailors. And Söjen was
left alone...

While approaching the Horiathon, they
started to notice strange things. They were feeling lighter. Pitch
and roll were slower, and less disturbing. Looking outside the ship
was much stranger. Only the topmen were allowed outside, and they
said that the Dauriath was now approaching the zenith, blocking half
of the sky, and mostly blue now, without the green and ochre
features. The other Elves could look through the portholes, and noted
that the horizon toward the Horiathon was lost into a white haze of
distance, while it was looking strangely sharp and close in both
sides, as if they were near the top of a hill.

Two days before reaching the Horiathon,
those outlandish features were getting worse and worse. The Elves had
games where one person could carry several others without a trouble.
The portholes were showing a strange vista of huge waves around the
ship, which would have terrified any sailor and crushed the largest
ships at once. But those waves were strangely slow, and the ship was
simply climbing on them, and falling hundreds of metres, without
harm, into the following gap. The sky was becoming darker and
yellowish, as under a storm cloud. The sun was scarcely visible
between whirling clouds, and it was now just a pale disk, as in a
sunset, that they could look at without being dazzled. And now their
weight was nearby zero, so that they could fly in the gangways, if
they were large enough.

The close approach of the Horiathon was
announced by a deep roaring sound, high in the sky, as from a hail
cloud. This suddenly stopped all discussions and games, and brought a
sense of fear on all the faces. After all, they all knew little of
it, and nobody ever went back of that place to tell if they survived.
They all had a view of a terrific maelstrom crushing their frail ship
like a nut shell... Add to this the now nearby complete
weightlessness, and the disturbing motions of the ship, which was
prancing on huge waves, slowly free falling for endless seconds,
landing without shock, and even, at times, turning upside down, as
they all feared from the beginning.

The captain had a grave look, probably
as frightened as everybody else. He commanded everybody aboard to
attach themselves on their bunks, with the straps which were provided
for this purpose. From the beginning of the journey, these straps
were clearly visible, but nobody ever dared to ask what they were
for...

Söjen and several other artists
were allowed near the portholes, as witnesses for the community. The
ship was silent, with just some prayers, or the confident babbling of
Söjen's little daughter somewhere into its flanks. And the now
loud ominous never ending roar…

What Söjen saw remained engraved
into his memory, although he understood it only later.

There were waves tall as hills, moving
slowly as in a dream, into this sinister yellow dusk. The hollows
between the waves were dark chasms, and the weightless ship, pushed
by a stronger and stronger wind, was jumping from wave to wave,
giving a feeling of endless fall, leaving Söjen completely
disoriented, not knowing where the top and bottom were. They were
really spinning upside down, and for this reason, the topmen had
furled all the sails tightly, and closed all the hatches. Now the
ship was completely out of any control, only led to its success or
doom by the unleashed natural elements.

When on top of the waves, the view was
incredible. It was as if they were at the point of an immense conical
mountain. But the horizon was far below its normal position, about
45° under it, and lost in far away haze. So that there was
yellowish sky all around them. Above, the Dauriath also was a huge
cone, in a symmetrical position, its own point at the bottom. It was
occupying 45° around the zenith, with an inverted horizon, ocean
above and sky under. And the two points were nearby touching each
other. But there was still a little gap, and, from the very top of
the Nyidiath the Here World, the water was aspired by a gigantic
tornado, and slowly rising toward the Dauriath, the Other World,
twisting and billowing like an angry storm cloud.

For about two hours, they bumped and
rotated madly around the Horiathon. The strong encircling wind was
howling and pushing them without the need for sails. At times
closing, at times recessing, they were completely out of any control,
hopeless toys into the jaws of the roaring maelstrom. Many feared
that the Horiathon would just be some huge rotating crushing machine.
How could their High Elven Council have accepted to send them into
such a place without any protestation other than purely formal? They
were all confident into their wise Elders, or thinking that the
Council had some good reason to do so, and still a better reason to
keep silent about it. So they just accepted the commands of the
Elders, and walked and worked for months, without any question. But
now this confidence was put on an heavy strain, and most were
wondering what foolishness they were in, or simply crying with fear.
But it was too late to change their mind, only water and wind would
decide now.

With the random spinning of the ship,
Söjen could catch some seconds a glimpse of the very point of
the Dauriath, into its outlandish twilight, that he often reproduced
in his paintings, later. The water was crashing with the roaring
sound on the point of the Dauriath, launching all around huge plumes
of foam. And there were... little specks of white... yes, ships! «I
see ships in the Dauriath! They made it to the Dauriath!» he
screamed to all those who could hear him.

At last their ship was engulfed into
the slow but overwhelming funnel, which was so thick that darkness
fell on them. They were spinning and yawing madly, as a little piece
of wood into a cataract. The upward fall lasted many long agonizing
minutes, and Söjen could see many fishes wriggling around them.
He even guessed the silhouette of a whale, slowly undulating.
Probably the huge animal desperately struggled for hours against the
attraction of the Horiathon, until she was caught and sent into the
airs. So samples of all the life forms of the Nyidiath ocean were
aspired to the Dauriath ocean.

At last there was a violent thump,
terrifying creaking sounds filled the ship, while some passengers
screamed, probably injured. This was the ultimate second, where all
their efforts and the sturdy truss structure of their ship went to
their test: to sustain the crash into the Dauriath ocean, after a ten
kilometres fall... Even with the near weightlessness, they gathered
enough speed to make this really challenging for their ship.

For some minutes, they were still
shaken without any visibility. They had landed into the worse
position: mast first, upside down, and even the hundred tons of metal
into their keel needed several minutes to bring them back into the
normal position.

There was a terrific roaring rain, a
cataract, it was one, on their roof, crashing from a world onto
another. While collapsing down on the Dauriath, the water jet was
violently ejecting steam and foam all around, quickly pushing them
away. Söjen had a last glance of the other side: the Nyidiath
point was now up into the sky, looking toward the bottom, surrounded
by its gigantic spiral waves, and the tornado starting. And now the
huge cataract was going down, toward them, falling on their heads, on
the Dauriath where they were now.

Then, little by little, rain and wind
softened... The Elves untied their straps, somebody opened one of the
hatches... they saw only a foam fog, cold and damp. But they were
safe, and their ship in the right position.

Two hours later, they could see in the
distance one of the other ships, and follow its signals. As soon as
they could, the topmen unfurled the sails and they took the bearing
indicated by the other ship, which was staying around here despites
the foamy hurling wind. Some Elves were hurt, most shocked, but they
had made it! And they were alive!

They flew away of the Horiathon, as
nobody wanted to remain into this terrific place. This unearthly and
terrific vista soon disappeared into the horizon mist, together with
its frightening roar. As they went away, they recovered their weight,
and the waves become again the small naughty waves which shake ships
with pitch and roll, in a normal way.

The sailors took axes and cut large
windows into the upper hull of their ship, making of it a more normal
ship with a deck, where they could enjoy the sun. They had no intent
whatsoever to go back to the Horiathon, and anyway they could not
pass it in the other way.

They found only some benign leaks into
the hull. The ship had withstood the shock, but they however
understood that many joints were weakened. The structure would not
resist a strong tempest now. This was really a one use ship, and,
after their arrival, its only value would be the good wood it was
made of.

The life into the ship was getting
worse and worse, with dirt accumulating and food exhausted. However
there were no more disputes. They had made it, they managed this
incredible thing!! They were in the Dauriath, now, into the Promised
Land, into the Freedom Land! Writers, singers and musicians started
to compose texts and music to celebrate this incredible event,
founder of a new civilization!

Two more weeks later, they reached
their first landing. From relief, they all went out of the ship, to
run happily into the grass. But they noted that here, the ocean was
rising, covering the tall trees near the shore, which had their feet
into the water. Finding a place to live would need to account with
this.

They remained here two or three days,
to wash themselves and to fetch water from a spring. They noted that
they were now seeing the Nyidiath into the sky, and all the
phenomenon went into reverted order: the sun appearing suddenly in
the black sky, at eleven in the morning, the Nyidiath becoming
progressively visible into the blue sky, the sun setting, while the
Nyidiath was still shining into the night sky, until eleven in the
evening.

They found signs engraved on rocks,
indicating the direction and distance of the next place to meet
people.

It was a small floating harbour, mainly
dedicated to welcoming new Elves landing on the Dauriath. A true
stone Elvish palace was being built much higher in the mountain, safe
from the rising ocean. They were given food, and maps and charts to
lead them toward their mates of the New Terallion. Not all the
Dauriath was charted and explored yet, and there were many places to
settle in, even with the ocean rising. Landscapes were different
here, with tall rounded mountains covered with forests, and cut with
gullies. Rain and rivers existed here only for a short time, and had
not time yet to form pointy mountains and valleys.

One month later, they landed at the
foot of a large mountain range, to rebuild their ancient Terallion.
Nearby, the ocean was pouring over a pass, into one of those large
circular plains, forming a huge cataract. But it was nothing compared
to the Horiathon.

They found other tribes of the former
Terallion, who were already cultivating and smithing, so that their
arrival arose no problem. But they had only small log houses for now,
as the emergency was to cultivate food for all the new comers.

They were few, they were alone, they
were surrounded by immense wild forests and strange mountains of
loose angular boulders of every sizes and kinds. They had only the
little resources they could obtain with their hands and with their
own work.

But they were FREE.

And SAFE.

And HAPPY.

They could resume their Elvish way of
life, playing music, telling stories, having long evenings
together... and being in peace and safety, not having to guard or
protect their places! Some went sailing back to the harbour near the
Horiathon, filling their holds with food and grain and medicine, to
help others to travel with better conditions. They could also go to
varied places, to gather fabrics and other goods. Which were offered
full heartedly...

From their place, they could see the
Nyidiath, the world of the Humans. It was much lower on the horizon,
and not cutting the path of the sun, so that they had a normal day,
and a warm climate. But the ancient world was visible...

… and reminding them of the
Humans.

As the prophecy was going on, the
Horiathon would stop flowing into about seven more centuries, to form
a simple bottle neck between the two oceans, which would then have a
nearby stable level. It would be possible to sail normally into both
ways, and to come back to the human realm. Until this moment, the
Elves had time to multiply, to grow into wisdom and knowledge, and to
rebuild a wonderful land. Into seven centuries, and even before,
Humans themselves would ask for the Elves to return and share their
wisdom and kindness.

Already the Elves were finding
unofficial buoys, sent by activist groups through the Horiathon,
containing encouraging messages, tools and other goods.

So what an enthralling purpose... Söjen
started it at once, by educating his daughter to the kind Evish
culture, and the three other sons Eleanor bore later.

The END (of this story)

I, Yichard, Elf Bard, composed this
text especially for the Bardic competition which was held in January
2008 in our Elven lands of Elf Circle, in Second Life. The stake of
this competition was to illustrate the Nine Virtues of our charter,
and in a general way all the Elven values. My entry was not prized,
but this was fair as there were many high level texts and I was
myself very hesitant to choose the best.

Astronomy explanation of the double world (contains spoilers)

This double world is in fact a double
planet. Such things are much more common than we imagine, and around
Earth many asteroids have a peanut shape. Many double stars too
happen to swell and exchange matter, in a way similar to the one
described here. Ideally they then take the shape of a hour glass with
two rounded ends (a eight). But in a general way, one of them is
larger, so that when it swells, matter falls on the other star in a
kind of funnelling jet. Large planets like Earth are usually not
known to be double, but we can consider Moon-Earth and Pluto-Charon
as double planets, as much as we find many double stars. To have a
double planet taking the shape of an eight (two water drops touching
by their points) must be rare, but it is not impossible. So that the
double world described here, sharing a common atmosphere and ocean,
is likely to exist somewhere in space. And the strange phenomena
around the Horiathon are a thorough reconstitution of the physical
reality of such a place.

In the story, these two worlds were
initially separated, as Earth and the Moon are, but much closer, so
that they took an egg shape, and later a water drop shape, instead of
a sphere. Air and life evolved on the larger Nyidiath, while the
smaller Dauriath remained airless, strewn with large craters like our
Moon. But with the slow evolution of their orbit, over millions
years, the Dauriath world was approaching the Nyidiath. At first, air
poured from the Nyidiath onto the Dauriath, about 3 million years
ago, bringing here rain and moist, then the seeds of many plants. The
Dauriath became covered with huge forests, populated only with some
species of insects. Later, some birds found their way to the new
world. Then, when the Dauriath was close enough, the ocean of the
Nyidiath began to pour on the Dauriath, bringing sea water and all
the species of fishes, coral and algae. At that time, some wise Elves
began to send to the Horiathon rafts containing birds, squirrels,
ants, and many others, with the hope of making of the Dauriath a much
nicer place. What they did not expected was to be themselves sent
through the Horiathon…

The Exodus

The total endeavour of sending 18
millions Elves through the Horiathon took 63 years, implying the
building of 22000 «Liberty Ships» into 45 harbours,
producing each one every six weeks. The most difficult task was to
gather a huge quantity of timber, and, to be frank, this cost not
only much work to the Elves, but also a fair part of their secret
gold reserves. On these 22000 ships, 33 were lost in storms and other
ocean hazard, versus only seven through the Horiathon pass itself.
The found wreckages indicated that likely they fell one on the other
at their arrival into the Dauriath ocean. This happened because it
was impossible to predict when a ship would be taken into the funnel,
despite precautions taken. Theoretically there was only one ship a
day, so that collisions should be impossible. But in some cases
passengers reported to have been spun for more than 48 hours into the
inverted whirlpool.

The travels did not completely stopped
with the end of the Exodus, however. Some humans soon realized that
the deportation was a huge mistake, well before it was completed. And
every year, one or more human ship still attempted the voyage, loaded
with volunteers, mostly humans who spontaneously became Elves, or who
wanted to share their life. Those immigrant ships were welcomed by
the Elves in the Dauriath, although it happened that some of these
humans had not so good ulterior motives. In the worse cases, they
were slain, but if they were discovered before doing any evil, those
false Elves were simply put into reserve lands, where they could live
as they wished, but with men and women thousands kilometres apart. The
Dauriath was the Elven Land, they had paid enough for it, and to make
it clear, they build a powerful fleet of mighty war ships
continuously circling the Horiathon, to prevent any intrusion. And
they sent clear messages as what attempts to enter by force would
result into death.

As messages could be exchanged between
the Dauriath and the Nyidiath. The most elegant way was using
migratory birds, who found their ways to the Dauriath tens of
millennia ago. Also many humans secretly sent buoys and rafts, for
varied purposes, but in a general way to send rare supplies, or to
share progress from the human society. The Elves also used large
catapult ships to send smaller items to the human ships circling the
Horiathion on the Nyidiath side. With the weightlessness, those
projectiles easily made for tens of kilometres upward before falling
on the other side. Later the Elves used large guns, firing wooden
shells hollowed in a way to contain messages or other items.

Elves without magic?

Contrarily to the usual view of the
Elves, I don’t mention magic in this story. In the original
text, it was to focus mainly on the extraordinary phenomena taking
place around the Horiathon, which would look magical for any people
having no knowledge of physics or astronomy, just as the midnight sun
and icebergs looked magical to the eyes of the antic Greek traveller
Pytheas who visited the Polar Circle, in Norway or Iceland.

But we can guess that elder Elves have
good premonition abilities, or more, in order to accept their exile
through the Horiathon with an exact knowledge of what happens here.
And indeed the majority of the other texts I composed after, mention
widespread use of magic by the Elves. We can say that magic powers
were not evenly shared by all the elven tribes, some had such powers,
others much less. Especially, in these painful times of tribulation,
the elven war god Maktar withdraw his protection to the Elves, in
order to help them to accept the exile, instead of fighting a
hopeless war in front of an overwhelmingly stronger human
civilization. The withdrawal of the Elves was the only mean for them
to recover their strength, while waiting for their return into the
Human world. However this return would be asked by the Humans
themselves, longing for the wisdom and beauty of the Elves, after
having polluted and destroyed most of their own world. So this return
would be the ultimate victory of wisdom and loving kindness.

The races in this text:

Contrarily to the Norse mythology or
Tolkien’s world, Elves in this story are not a separated race,
Humans and Elves are the same race, who can cross breed without any
problem. This was a purposely choice, to deal with the matter of
racism and segregation in a way closer to the conditions on Earth.

Copyright… Yes this text is
copyright 2008 Yichard Muni, my identity in Second Life, or copyright
2008 Richard Trigaux, my identity in the physical world. Please ask
for authorization before reproducing it. Authorization granted for
free to the Elf Circle community. No commercial use. If you are
interested for a serious publishing agreement or adaptation, please
contact me.

<

Scenario, graphics, sounds, colours, realization: Richard Trigaux.

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